My nation

My nation, I grieve as

your eyes see thinly just

the Flag and the jubilant Day,

and not the searing history

of oppression, genocide, 

separation, loss and cruelty

that echoes to this day for some

and marks this Day for all.


My nation, you say that this

is not your problem and 

the dusty bones are just relics

from generations long gone;

but those bones rise and speak 

from the hidden graves of Nations and 

from Mobs now and ever that point 

at you in judgement and call for your

hearts to come alive with peace 

and your souls to find revival and new life.


My people, our greatness comes

not from what we have achieved

or from what we have built that 

defies the past and forgets the wrongs,

but in softly coming to hear the echoes, 

in gently longing for forgiveness 

in the ash, smoke and rising bones,

and in sitting openly in the ancient dust

to form a treaty with the deathly past.